


Maybe Someday

by Jadelyn



Series: Puppy [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fisting, BDSM, Begging, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, No beta we die like stregobor should have, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26200366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadelyn/pseuds/Jadelyn
Summary: Geralt is not a size queen. But Jaskier likes to push his limits, and he wants to be good, so...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Puppy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950391
Comments: 21
Kudos: 454





	Maybe Someday

**Author's Note:**

> Me: to help treat my severe case of Wordy Bitch Disease, I will attempt a simple PWP. No angst, no feels, no nothing. Just smut.  
> These boys: managed to slip some feels in at the end anyway

"It's too much," he gasped. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face against the blanket beneath him, which was as much movements as the ropes would allow. That, and his hands clenching and unclenching helplessly behind him. "Jas, please, it's so much, too much, please."

"I know, puppy," Jaskier said, a silky warmth to his tone that made Geralt tremble. "You have your word if you need me to stop." He moved his hand, knuckles rubbing along the taut rim of Geralt's hole. "But you know I love seeing your pretty little hole all stretched for me like this. And you want to be good for me, don't you, puppy?"

The sensations combined with Jaskier's words to drag a desperate whine from deep in Geralt's throat. It made him sound like what Jaskier liked to call him, a name Geralt hated and adored in equal measure.

"Yes," he managed to breathe. He yelped quietly a moment later as Jaskier pressed in a little more, the tip of his thumb joining the four fingers already buried inside. The burn of being stretched open intensified, Jaskier's knuckles threatening to breach him. He panted, tried to breathe through it.

"Yes, what?"

Fuck, gods, he hated it when Jaskier made him say things like that. Being forced to admit his desires, speak them aloud, sent hot tendrils of shame curling through him.

It also made his cock throb even harder, but he'd never admit to that.

Well, unless Jaskier ordered him to.

"Yes, I…I want to be good for you." He choked the words out in a haze of terrible, desperate arousal, hips rocking involuntarily at the spike in his pleasure that came with it.

"Good boy."

A full-body shudder took him at that. Because that was the thing, wasn't it? He had his word. He could make it stop. But he could smell the arousal on his lover, and more than anything he wanted to earn those words, those unspeakably precious words that meant he'd pleased Jaskier, made him happy, done something right. And this very obviously made the bard happy. Discomfort was a small enough price to pay for that.

Besides, if he were honest, it…settled something in him, the discomfort anchoring him in the moment where everything, absolutely everything in him was centered around Jaskier. Where nothing else in the world existed. It was a precious respite, something to be treasured. Whatever the cost. 

Jaskier chuckled quietly, running his free hand over Geralt's hip. He twisted his hand again, curled his fingers and pressed on Geralt's prostate, hard, making his hips jerk sharply as though he couldn't decide whether he was trying to get away from the stimulation or get more of it. "I love watching you squirm like that. Putting on such a lovely show for me, my pretty pup."

The most Geralt could manage was an inarticulate moan, hips still moving involuntarily.

"Will you give me more?" Jaskier stopped abusing Geralt's prostate, then took advantage of the way he slumped, muscles lax, to push his hand deeper until the widest spread of knuckles was right against the ring of muscle. "More lovely words, more delightful writhing? Beg for it while I stretch you open even wider?"

The humiliation burned even hotter in him at that, and yet there was only one possible answer. "Yes," Geralt managed to say, though the words trailed off into a whimper of mingled discomfort and arousal.

"Yes what, pup?"

A fresh trickle of oil snaked down his cleft and spread itself across the back of Jaskier's hand, and the pressure against his hole increased. Not quite enough to breach him, but almost. He keened, then bit his lip on the deeply humiliating sound.

There was steel under Jaskier's voice when he asked again. "Yes, what? Go on."

"Yes I -" Geralt couldn't think, could barely breathe. "I'll beg for it, I'll - please, Jas, I need more, your hand, all of it. Give it to me, please…"

"Then take it, pup," Jaskier said. Geralt whined helplessly, then arched into his touch and shifted his weight back into it as much as his position and the bindings would allow.

The stretch and burn intensified as the widest part of Jaskier’s knuckles slowly, achingly slowly, eased past his rim. He was whimpering without realizing it until Jaskier's other hand softly stroked down his spine, soothing and reassuring.

"That's it," Jaskier murmured. "Just like that, good puppy." Geralt shuddered and his thighs trembled with the strain as he tried to press back even further to take more of it. Jaskier’s hand slid a little deeper, then a little more. " _Look_ at you, stuffed so full." There was delighted awe in Jaskier's voice, and suddenly the shame vanished and the burn and the stretch and the pressure felt only good, tangible proof of how pleased he was making his lover.

"More," he begged, writhing in the ropes that held him. "Please." The begging was genuine, this time.

"Well, it sounds like someone's changed his tune." Jaskier sounded smug. "Far be it from me to refuse my puppy, especially when he begs so nicely."

He moaned, loud and needy. "Jas," he began, "please, I - ah!" Whatever Geralt had been about to say vanished into a cry of mingled pleasure and pain as Jaskier pushed, harder than before, and suddenly his entire hand was inside, Geralt's hole clamping tightly down around Jaskier's wrist.

"Look at that," Jaskier whispered, sounding half-drunk on pleasure. "Look at you, taking my entire hand in your tight little arse. Your hole stretched out around my wrist. Taking it so well for me, my sweet pup, aren't you?"

He began to move his hand, just a little, turning and flexing it. Geralt whimpered and shook, all but overcome by the conflicting sensations. It was too much, he didn't like feeling split in half like this, but at the same time he loved it, the discomfort verging on pain meaning he was giving Jaskier what he wanted despite himself.

"I love the sounds you make, puppy," Jaskier said. "Give me more of them."

So Geralt did, lips parted to allow a veritable torrent of gasps and moans and whimpers to escape as Jaskier's hand moved inside him. Each press of knuckles or fingers against his prostate made him jerk and cry out sharply.

When Jaskier began to pull back, forcing Geralt's hole to stretch around the thickest part of his hand again, it dragged from him a low, choked wail. He was riding the edge, had been for awhile now courtesy of the leather tie wrapped snugly around the base of his cock to prevent him from coming, and the thought of Jaskier deciding they were done without letting him come brought tears of desperation to his eyes.

"Please," he gasped, hardly even aware of the words, "Jas, please, don't - don't stop, I - need…"

Jaskier chuckled and let his hand slide back in. It tore a sob of relief from the witcher's throat. "Not ready to stop, hm, pup? Want to stay stuffed full a little longer?"

"Yes, please," Geralt panted. "More, please, I need to - please, Jas, let me - let me…"

"What is it, puppy?" Jaskier asked him, low and teasing. "If you want something you need to ask for it. You know the rules." He started to pull his hand back again.

"Jas, please, I want - I want to come, please let me come!" The words burst from him.

"Ohhh," Jaskier said with exaggerated understanding. "I see. And you think you've earned that, do you? Think you deserve it?"

Oh, no. Geralt knew better than to answer that. It was a trap: _yes_ was presumptuous, and _no_ would just have Jaskier agreeing and denying him. "I…" he started, knowing he had to say something, "Jas, please, I can't - I need -"

"Do you," Jaskier repeated slowly, patient and implacable, "think you deserve it?"

Fuck. Jaskier wasn't going to let him get away with sidestepping the question this time. He tugged against the ropes, grounding himself with the immovability of them around him as he tried to decide what answer to give.

Had he earned it? He'd been good, done everything Jaskier asked, taken everything the bard had wanted to give him. Maybe…

"Yes," he said, forcing the word out even as he flinched back from his own boldness at saying it.

"Good boy," Jaskier said immediately, voice warm as sunshine, almost hot enough to burn him.

Jaskier's hand moved inside him again, free hand reaching down and removing the tie, and Geralt _howled_ as he came. White-hot pleasure burned up his spine and he shook in its grip, the ropes the only thing holding him together as Jaskier worked him through it until he began to whimper from overstimulation.

The wave receded, the biochemical rush of it leaving him floating in a pleasant haze. He was vaguely aware of Jaskier carefully easing his hand free, cleaning them both up and untying the ropes - he must have made a faint sound of protest at that, because he heard Jaskier laugh, indulgent and fond, as he began undoing knots - and bringing him a cup of water. His hands were still shaking - his everything was still shaking - so Jaskier helped him hold the cup as he drank, murmuring sweet nothings and stroking his hair the whole time.

He began to resurface from it as Jaskier got them settled beneath the sheets, finding himself plastered against Jaskier's side with his head pillowed on the bard's shoulder. He hummed lazily, enjoying the pleasant ache that suffused his body, feeling indolent and sated. He rubbed his face against Jaskier's shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss into his skin.

In turn, Jaskier kissed his forehead. "Back with me, love?"

Geralt hummed again, nodding slightly.

"Geralt." He could hear the frown in Jaskier's voice.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Yeah. Sorry."

Jaskier relaxed, giving him another forehead kiss. "It's all right. You know I need words when I check in with you after, that's all."

"I know."

They laid together in companionable silence for awhile, until a half-formed thought that had been bubbling in the back of Geralt's mind finally came together enough for him to notice it.

"Jaskier?"

"Yes, darling?"

"At the end, you asked - you made me answer. Why?" The question itself, teasing about having earned his rewards or not, wasn't entirely unusual for them in this context, but insisting on a real answer was.

"Because I know you," Jaskier replied simply. "I know how unwilling you are to allow yourself to have good things, how you never let yourself believe you deserve them. So I wanted to make you say it, acknowledge that you'd done well and deserved something good in turn."

There was a tiny hitch to Jaskier's breath then, inaudible to anyone but a witcher, and his natural scent took on the saltwater note of wistfulness and longing. "I figure if I can make you say it in that context, maybe someday I'll get you to accept and believe it when I say it in other contexts, too."

Geralt didn't say anything. Wasn't sure what he could say. He didn't want to dash Jaskier's hopes or sour the moment with unhappiness, but he wasn't sure he could agree with him either.

A few minutes later, sliding gently toward sleep, he sighed and nuzzled Jaskier's shoulder again. "Maybe someday," he murmured.

Just before he fell asleep, he caught the bright blossoming scent of hope rising from Jaskier's skin.

"Maybe someday," the bard agreed.

 _Maybe someday,_ Geralt thought, and slept.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any suggestions or requests for scenes or kinks you'd like to see them explore leave a comment and let me know!


End file.
